Puzzle Pieces
by Aristotelian
Summary: 100 instances in the lives of Cain and his manservant, Riff.
1. Introduction

**AN: Hey Everyone! This is darknessversuslight's (from deviantart) 100 prompt writing challenge. These are going to obviously be short by nature, since they're just supposed to be snippets, hence the title "Puzzle Pieces." Also, these are not connected. They are just instances in the relationship, not necessarily in sequential order or super canon, but enjoy anyway!**

**All will, however, focus on the Cain/Riff pairing.**

"What's the master's son's name?" Riff had anxiously awaited a momentary break in the chattering maids' gossip to insert his inquiry. The women abruptly turned to him, surprised at his curiosity or the novel sound of his voice in the kitchen.

"Why, you must mean little master Cain. I rather pity the poor child. What, with his father's accident, he's the rightful heir to the earldom," said a woman with greying temples as she swirled a wooden spoon around mindlessly.

"Everyone knows that the Hargreaves family's bloodline is cursed beyond redemption. Cain is to inherit a title of misfortune and unhappiness," another commented while stacking high porcelain plates.

"But, he's only a child," Riff objected thoughtfully, assembling the last ornaments of his platter. "Surely his destiny cannot be so wretched. He has yet to make it."

"You are right. One can hope for the best," a young, spritely maid concurred as her skirt rustled to the sink. Taking the silver tray into both of his hands, he smiled politely as he dipped out of the kitchen. Though he had been robust before, his recent illness had left him a bit lackluster in strength and balance. He put his full focus into his maneuvering the tray into the parlor, setting it at the side of a mustachioed Hargreaves' relative, and swiftly exiting the room. It was a skill, Riff had noticed in his few experiences of work, to come into a space and then leave without being noticed. Be fluid and swift, make sure the teacups and saucers did not rattle, and look at no one.

Don't talk to the master's son, he had been commanded. But, when he came across the boy, just the day after he had held him so tightly in his arms, after he had wiped away his tears with his handkerchief and bare hands, and whispered fragments and phrases he could not remember into his silky black hair, he could not pass without softly calling, "Master Cain."

The boy peered up, looking terrified to be found yet again by the servant who wasn't supposed to know he existed.

"I never told you… my name is Riff. Please allow me to serve you in any way." And the boy who hatched peeped out from his shell with a fracture of a golden grin.


	2. Complicated

The carriage was still in the Hargreaves' estate's drive when Cain pulled Riff into his bedchamber and locked the door behind him. A second later, his lips crashed onto his servant's, his breaths hot and bitter, his arms desperately clinging with the fear of being dragged away into darkness.

Nothing in that kiss had anything to do with love. Riff broke away from his master, confused, but tightly keeping the younger man in his arms as he began to lower to the floor. Cain clasped his chest, trying to steady his breathing, but he felt as if every inhale caused blood to splurt out of a gaping wound. Not a physical wound, though it still existed. His heart was so heavy that he stuck to the floor, locking Riff's arms in his, struggling to find air in the vast room around him.

It seemed as if Cain's lamentations were insatiable. He covered his face, scratched at his clothes and when they were removed so that Cain could go to bed, he clawed his skin raw. All of his work, dissipated. All of his love, pointless. If he couldn't save Emile, if he couldn't even kill his father correctly, then how could he expect to accomplish anything great?

When Cain's self-loathing finally ran out of fuel, Riff sat beside him, having discarded his jacket and tie. He took a cloth soaked in cool water and placed it on his master's forehead and throat and the lacerations from his own fingernails.

He bent down slowly and whispered, "Tomorrow will be a better day." Cain made no recognition or response, but as Riff rose to dress and depart, Cain caught his hand and gave it a feeble squeeze before he released it.


	3. Making History

"I don't think I understand quite what you're getting at earl." Riff heard these words spoken by a gruff, unfamiliar voice as he entered the parlor. It was mid-morning, and thus business hours for both the Hargreaves' heir and his staff hidden away in the various corridors and chambers of the estate.

A flash of his eyes upward and the servant saw the man, his face speckled with pockmarks and upon his lips perched a furry strip of facial hair. Half a second later, his eyes locked on the ground, and he noiselessly closed the door behind him. Five years had given him much practice in being unseen, but of course, Cain knew he was there. In the next half-second, Riff looked over to his master, who met his gaze in an equally brief diversion. Afterward, his eyes returned to their previous dreamy state, and he knew that the young man was far from the room, floating in some scattered thoughts or memories.

The visitor seemed startled by Riff's offering of tea, but Cain seemed grateful for the momentary lapse in his boredom. As Riff's hands lowered, handing the teacup and saucer to his master, Cain allowed his hand to brush against Riff's. It would have appeared accidental to the mustachioed fit of circumlocution present, if he even noticed. But, with that one moment of contact, a thousand touches from the night before fell into both of their minds. Hands and lips and bodies and feet, entangled, touching on too many occasions to count.

Just a second, and Cain held back a smile as he watched Riff silently exit. The dull voice across from him became senseless against reveries of last night's splendor.

**Author's Note:**

**Thanks so much, reader, for the lovely review!**


	4. Rivalry

It had been dismal and dreary for nearly a week, and Merryweather could not resist staring outside for the entirety of her French lesson. With the cessation of the rains, the grass had taken on an attractive shade of green, and hints of buttercups peeked out in patches across the lawn.

When her class had finally commenced, she hurried to the cupboard, where Riff was surveying the cutlery, and tugged at his coat hem. Surprised by the interruption, Riff soon crouched down so that the little mistress of the house could make her secret request.

Within an hour, Mary and, with a great deal of sulkiness, her older brother, sat on a yellow blanket, damp with the remnants of the recent storms, under a pleasant spring sky. "Older brother, isn't it wonderful? This is the first true day of spring!" Merryweather chimed, spreading her skirts as she lowered herself to a sitting position. "I have waited so long to see it."

"Indeed, wonderful," Cain muttered. "Perhaps even more wonderful if we weren't sitting in the mud among the bullfrogs."

"Don't be so sour. I have never seen finer mud! And look, Riff is almost here with our tea." Cain raised his eyes to meet the smiling blue ones of his manservant. He knelt down to place an assortment of cakes and scones between the siblings, leaving also a porcelain tea service.

"Enjoy your tea, Miss Mary," he added, before turning to leave.

"Oh, do stay with us, Riff! Cain is so unpleasant." He looked over his shoulder to his master for approval or rejection, but only found a scowl.

"Yes, Riff, you may join our tea party. If you want to, that is," he finally responded, eyes shifting up to the sky at a bird soaring overhead.

"I suppose I would not be missed too greatly if I was just here for a few minutes." Cain began to make room for him to join the group when Mary interjected.

"No, sit next to me," she protested, scuttling across the sheet in a flurry of petticoats. "If you please," she added as an afterthought, with a tiny smile meant for enticing. Riff, amused silently at the choice looked from one Hargreaves sibling to the other. Finally, he favored Mary, much to her delight. "You see, Cain?" She sported a haughty grin in the style of every Hargreaves before her. "You are so miserable that Riff does not want to be near you."

"That's not true," her brother grunted. "If you hadn't practically begged him to sit next to you, he probably would have chosen me over you. Much to my misfortune, I do not possess the weapons of puppy-dog-eyes and crocodile tears as methods of persuasion."

"You think that just because you and Riff always sneak off on secret missions together that he likes you best, but I think we've just proven that isn't so." The squabble continued as Riff poured each member of the party a cup of tea, laughing inwardly, but continually silent in the contest for his own affections.


	5. Unbreakable

A quiet knock on the door in the pattern of a waltz. That was what they had established as the distress call in case Cain needed Riff to assist him in investigating. But, that night, there was no investigating, and Cain was surprised to hear the knock on his own door. He rose quickly and cracked the door to see Riff with his face downcast and mien abnormally disheveled.

"What is it?" Cain opened the door for his servant to enter. Riff took the invitation slowly, and finally began to raise his face to see Cain's. It was even paler than his typical ivory shade and his eyes were filled with thin red branches. "Riff, you are not well!" he exclaimed upon seeing the altered state of his manservant. He took Riff's hands and led him to a chair in the corner, and knelt down to examine his face. "For heaven's sake, please tell me what is wrong, what I can do to help, anything!"

Riff met his concern with a pained smile. "I think I will recover," he said, putting his hand on Cain's. "But, I needed to see you." Cain grasped his hand and held it tightly.

"Is it about that woman?" Cain asked. It had only been a few hours since his attempted murderess had permanently left his household. "Dear Riff, do not concern yourself with her petty acts of vengeance. She will not bother us ever again." Cain sat back onto his heels, still studying Riff's face. Some of its color had returned, but it was not as it should have been.

"Yes, I know, but I—" his voice lost its strength. "Just looking at those fish, knowing that it could have been you. I've failed you, my lord. I haven't protected you as I promised." Cain brought himself close enough to take Riff's face in his hands.

"Riff, no one but God or the Devil will be able to separate us. We've taken our vows, sworn ourselves to each other." Cain's eyes shut slowly as he closed the space between them. "No one can break us."


	6. Obsession

Riff tried not to notice the peeping blue eyes and thick blond bangs perched on the second-story windowsill as he traversed the walkway of the Hargreaves estate. He went in the back entrance, where the servants were permitted to come and go as required, and hung his cloak in the closet which was far too small for the number of servants.

It wasn't until tea time that the blond bangs made another appearance.

"Your tea, Madame Salin," Riff said, placing a tray down at the tutor's side. "Miss Mary," he bent down to serve her and his ear filled with her hasty whisper.

"You've got it, then?" She took the teacup and saucer from his hands.

"Not to worry, miss," he whispered his answer just as furtively as she had asked.

When they passed each other after dinner, she tugged on his tail urgently, trying not to fall behind her brother and uncle in their exit. "Soon," he mouthed the word to her, and her pink lips fell into a practiced pout.

An hour later, when Riff came in to collect the teacups from Cain and Merryweather, he nodded to the little girl, barely making eye contact, and a moment later she let out a tremendous yawn.

"Big brother, I am growing very tired. I think I shall go to bed soon," she declared.

"So early? You're usually begging me to stay up an extra hour." He frowned, but his eyes never moved from his newspaper. "Very well." She rose and bestowed her goodnight kiss on her brother's cheek before skipping off, hardly able to contain her excitement.

"Did Lord Cain give you a hard time running off?" Riff asked when Merryweather entered the library. He had just thrown a fresh log in the fire.

"No, but I told him that I wanted to go to bed rather than come to the library." Riff smiled and opened his jacket to remove a collection of booklets from his pocket. "What ones do we have this week? Wow, another one about the highwayman?" Mary delightedly ran her fingers over the covers.

"Mind your fingers!" Riff protested. "If Master Cain were to see them covered in ink, then our secret wouldn't be a secret anymore." Mary's fingers instantaneously recoiled. "So we must be very quiet and careful. Which one shall we read first?"

"_Pluck and Luck_ is always a good start," she suggested, spreading her skirts to sit down on the floor. Riff lowered himself next to her, and opened the flimsy, ink-stained page.

"_Pluck and Luck _it is. This week, we learn the tale of Slippery Steve," he announced and began reading the half-penny aloud. They neared the end before, unbeknownst to either of the engrossed enthusiasts, the library door opened the tiniest sliver. Nothing happened for a few minutes afterwards as Riff continued to read and Merryweather's face contorted into an expression of shock when Slippery Steve's story neared its climax.

"Dear Merryweather," a voice from outside interrupted and both froze. "I thought you were going to bed." The door opened enough for Cain to poke his head into the library. Caught. Red-handed. Or maybe more like black-fingered.

"Well, I was on my way when I saw someone had made a fire in the library, and when I saw Riff, he asked me if I wanted to read a story with him. A bedtime story, really," she explained, smiling her anxiety away.

"What bedtime story? Am I familiar with it?" he asked, crossing the room to get a better look at the booklet in Riff's hands. "_Pluck and Luck_? That's strange, I've never heard of it. Now, is it written by the Grimm Brothers or our friend Mother Goose?"

"Neither, brother. It is a new publication, but the story is over now. It is time for me to retire. My appetite for fairytales has been well-sated." She kissed her brother's cheek once more and ran out before he could catch her by her ribbons.

Cain gave a look of feigned disapproval to his manservant, who closed the booklet silently. "You really mustn't encourage her with despicable literature of this kind. Some Milton, maybe some Chaucer? I wouldn't complain. But the dreadfuls?" He snatched the paper out of Riff's hands. "Not very elegant for a young lady."

"They really aren't so different from the stories the newspapers print. The ones by Mr. Dickens. But, Miss Mary is too young to know them. Probably you too. My mother used to read them to my brother and me when we were very small." Cain flipped through the pages. "Those nights are some of my favorite childhood memories." Riff looked away for a moment before returning his eyes to his master. "You are right though. Forgive me, my lord, for this infraction."

"There is nothing to forgive," Cain said with a smile. He extended his hand down to his servant and helped the valet to his feet. "So long as you invite me next time."

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys, sorry it's been a while since I've updated this! Just to let you know, Riff and Mary are reading booklets known as the penny dreadfuls, a series of penny-priced publications with crazy, sensational fiction stories specifically geared at young audiences to thrill them. They were like really bad, cheap serial novels, which is a nice touch to the time period, since _Godchild_ probably takes place after serial novels were at their height. History! Literature! Exciting! **


	7. Eternity

_To a friend_—he penned on the corner of the page with sweaty palms. Beads of perspiration fell from his head to baptize the paper.

_It may come as a surprise to you that I am still alive, even after all this time and silence. I have tried to escape from the life I once led in London in every way I could conceive, but now this past passion invades my dreams. It has become my nightmare—to see that placid, composed, grinning face in the moment when life stops._

_It is time for me to tell you all I have come to know about the night the war ended and London was saved from the tyranny of a madman. It is true that Cain died. I have known this for many years, and if I have caused you any grief in withholding this information, then I apologize profusely. I thought I could sever all ties from the earl and my position in Alexis' organization, but watching their downfall has made that impossible._

_It has occurred to me (now is not the first time) that you and your loved ones may find comfort in knowing how Cain left this world. He died very well. Noiselessly, really. He knew long before that night that he would not live past the final battle, whether it ended in victory or defeat, simply because there was no need to go on after the war ended. He was born with the intention of creating a perfect monster, and yet his purpose was to destroy his creator and prove his humanity._

_You see, even after Cain defeated his father, if he had lived, the Cain we knew would have ceased to exist._

_Did you know that manservant he loved so dearly was present at the end? Indeed, it was strange to see such a redemption, like a melodrama played out before my eyes. But, in hora mortis, many unresolved conflicts can be mended through double penance._

_Cain's cream skin, hair parted, and speckled with dust. The manservant's body decomposing already—his left hand atrophied beyond any human explanation. His shoulders slouched heavily with no indication of the fortitude he held in life. Blood was drying. Yet, the master supported the weight of his servant, for the first time knowing what it meant to be depended on and suffocated by love. His hand held the black rosary, his eyes closed in solace. His lips, sealed, yet curled, as if the event of dying were far less impressive than he had anticipated._

_And then, the tumult of falling rubble. The clouds of rock. The settling of the dust. The end of it all, at last._

_Silence is my only companion tonight. I do not have art to convey the ultimate scene in its full severity. The magnitude of it all is ineffable, but this is my best effort and consolation. I have tried many times to familiarize myself with these images to evade its grip, but my results are thus futile. Maybe now, since I have finally told you what I have known for these years, God will give me peace._

_Because in that moment, I glimpsed eternity. What wouldn't I give to unsee it?_

_D. Crehador_

_1920_


	8. Gateway

Riff used to wait up all night, at times fretting inconsolably although not noticeably, to hear the sound of the creaky gateway open and close and the faint patter of hooves making their way down the drive. When a handyman visitor looking for work offered to oil the hinge to repair the squeak, Riff rejected his services. Without the strident signal, his heart would never settle, and his mind never rest. Without the reassurance that Cain had arrived home safely, he could never resign himself to think reasonably and eliminate worry. So, most often, Riff slipped into bed, or occasionally sat in a chair or at his desk, pretending to read, candlelight his only companion as he listened for creaking relief.

And yet, there were times when Riff had to run an errand, investigate a location or suspicious person, or take care of the estate's accounts. Necessity forced his occasional absence, and in those hours, Cain would not stay locked up in his study, away from the world and united with his poisons. He might try to read or spy on Merryweather during her lessons, but he could not continue to work until the creak rang out. As soon as the squeak of the rusty metal sounded, he would board himself up in a corner of the mansion, giving off the impression that he had been diligently working for the entire afternoon. He would never admit that he too had been waiting for the screeching gateway to settle his unease.

**Author's Note:**

** Thanks everyone who has read and/or reviewed this series so far. I really appreciate it!**


	9. Death

Outside, the cold remnants of an earlier rain were still dripping from branches which had long since lost their bloom. Earlier, Cain had gone to the cemetery during the worst of the storm. Riff fought his common sense with all of his fortitude to hold his tongue and allow the excursion, accompanying his master and protecting him with a large black umbrella. He could not object; it was the anniversary of Suzette's death.

It had been a quiet observance, although both master and servant had been chilled and soaked with stinging rain. Riff had deftly removed Cain's wet things and wrapped him in a warm robe, looking after his wet things while Cain, perched on his armchair, bent over his own knees and deeply pondered. "Riff," he finally spoke.

"Yes, my lord?" Riff's hands continued to work, although his mind was Cain's.

"Did you see many people die? When you were studying to be a doctor, I mean." Riff wrung water from his master's stockings.

"Yes, I suppose I did. Though it has been a long time since I've thought of it." Cain nodded, resting his chin on his kneecaps, hugging his legs.

"You know, I've known many people who have died. I ought to know what people are like when they are dying. I mean in countenance and behavior and attitude. I've seen lots of pets pass away, but it's different for animals. I just don't know. I wonder if people act differently. Do you remember my bird?" Riff smiled as he hung wet garments from a wooden rack close to the fire.

"Yes, my lord."

"But, what is it like? From an outsider's perspective?" Riff stopped and sighed. He folded Cain's white shirt over his arms and leant back against the bedpost, thinking for a minute.

"It is different for many. Sometimes, there is a great struggle, a battle to stay on and live another day. Sometimes, it comes so silently that one can scarcely tell if the sleep is eternal or temporary." Cain's hands fell to his lips in thought. "But, after it happens, for all I have experienced, despite any sadness, there is always a sense of wonder and relief. All the breath is gone. It is an indescribable calm. The struggle of living has ended." Cain's eyes had slipped closed, and Riff quickly returned to his work. "Will that be all, Lord Cain?"

"Yes, thank you, Riff." The door closed noiselessly.


	10. Opportunities

It was dusk when Cain stood waiting in the garden. The sky was rapidly growing greyer and greyer, and with each minute, the sylvan paths became darker. Finally, Cain could hear leaves crumbling under approaching footsteps, and Riff appeared in livery, pushing branches away to enter the clearing.

"There you are," Cain exclaimed with a smile. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten."

"I could never forget such an explicit order, my lord," Riff teased, taking Cain into his arms. "But, I cannot stay long," he warned before Cain eagerly met his lips.

"Why ever not?" he whined as he toyed with his servant's tie.

"Because I've your household to run." His excuse did not stop Cain's kisses, nor did it prevent his hands from running through Riff's white hair and over his once perfectly tidy uniform.

"I suppose you're right. You shouldn't let me keep you from doing your job. I should just appreciate these opportunities as they arise." But Cain wouldn't let him go, and each time he protested that there was work to do, Cain had to bite his lip, grab his servant's hand or pull Riff closer to him so that it was impossible for him to leave without one more embrace, kiss, or stroke. After numerous protests and instances of inching away only to be closer than before, Cain finally allowed Riff a bit more slack, still holding his hands until the very last second when they had to part.

"Lord Cain, I must go."

"Very well, although I do not approve. You will stay tonight, won't you?"

"Again?" Riff was kidding, but even so, his master's lopsided grin and shining green eyes continually convinced him that he could never stay away for long. "I suppose I should appreciate these opportunities as they arise." Cain smiled and Riff allowed one more kiss before shuffling off on darkened paths.


End file.
